


The Mourning After

by Fenix21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Series, implied major character death, implied wincest, saying good-bye fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He set out two coffee mugs, even though he didn't know why...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam set out two coffee mugs. 

He wasn’t even sure why. The house was silent. There was no more uneven shuffle from above as Dean worked the stiffness he would never admit to out of his hips on his way to the bathroom and then down the stairs, drawn by the rich aroma of his favorite espresso roast. There was no more good natured grumbling at his shoulder about overzealous Samanthas that felt the need to go for five o’clock runs every damn morning to stay healthy while long arms reached around him to steal the fresh cup he’d just poured and brush a kiss along his jaw at the same time. There was no more syncopated drumming of fingers against the countertop as Dean hummed a Led Zeplin or AC/DC song under his breath and breathed in the steam from his coffee while he stared out the kitchen window for a few disarmed minutes that Sam would have happily sold his soul to be sure his brother got to keep forever.

He set out two coffee mugs, even though he didn’t know why.

Five minutes later he wondered if it wasn’t premonition.

“Cas,” Sam said without turning from the still percolating coffee pot.

“I tried to come sooner.”

Cas’ voice was quiet, aching, hesitant to disturb the cocoon of silence in the kitchen.

The sun was rising over the distant rough cut horizon of trees and filtering into the room slowly, easing its way up the window glass, dribbling over the sill, and sliding over the flat plane of the counter and cabinets. When it crept far enough to touch Sam’s still soot smudged hand, he curled his fingers back, trying to stay in the darkness a little longer.

The scent of smoke and kerosene hung heavy in the air beneath the sharp bitterness of the freshly brewed coffee. Cas took a step closer, hesitated to put a hand on Sam’s taut, hard-held shoulders for fear whatever armor of the moment was propping the man up would crumble like so much sand through his fingers.

Sam inched away down the counter, away from Cas’ touch, still trying to escape the light. The coffee pot gurgled its readiness, but he ignored it. His head dipped down, the only allowance of defeat he would permit himself.

“Is he…?”

“Yes,” Cas said immediately. “And he is waiting for you.”

Sam let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for hours. A trembling smile flickered and slipped across his lips.

“Good. That’s good.”

“Sam—.”

“Can I—can I talk to him?”

Cas’ vessel had all the working parts of a human, but none of the drives that made humans give such things as the heart the connotations it had in regards to love or devotion or grief or sorrow. But some sense memory remained somewhere—perhaps from Cas’ time spent as a human in this vessel, or maybe it was written in the DNA of the body itself, or some shadow of Jimmy’s soul giving him guidance—and that hopeful little-boy voice and the slide of those soft, pleading hazel eyes worked on Cas like he suspected they had so often worked on Dean in years past. There was no denying a request born of love like that.

“Sam, I—.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” Sam said, taking Cas’ falter for a refusal. “I know you can’t. It just…all happened so fast, and I-I wanted to say good-bye.”

Cas took a step forward, settled his hand at the base of Sam’s skull like he had seen Dean do so many  times. Sam stiffened, tried to shrug him off.

“Cas, don’t. I can’t—.”

“Close your eyes, Sam.”

Sam remained tightly coiled but reluctantly obeyed and closed his eyes, and the hand on his neck gentled and turned familiar, warm and calloused, infinitely strong and so tender at the same time. He unconsciously leaned back into it.

“Dean….”

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m here.”

Sam’s eyelashes twitched and his body tensed to spin and grab his brother to him, but the hand tightened briefly and he forced himself to stay still.

“Dean, is it really you?”

“Yeah, kiddo, but we don’t have long. Cas can’t hold the connection for very long.”

Sam nodded, gulping back a whimper of protest. “I just wanted to….” He swallowed thickly against the words he was about to say, not able to bring himself to actually speak them out loud. He cleared his throat, too loudly. “So, this is it. One way ticket this time, huh?”

“Yeah, little brother, this time it is.” The hand moved minutely, scratching gently up under Sam’s hair and a tear slid down his cheek.

“Christ, Dean…I’m sorry. I should have—.”

“Shh. Shhhh, Sammy. Don’t do that to yourself. There was nothing you could have done. And what’s important is that you’re safe.” Fingers worked in small, comforting circles against Sam’s scalp. “You stay that way, you hear, little bro? Don’t you go off and do anything stupid. I don’t want to see your ugly mug around here for a while.”

Sam turned his head enough that a calloused thumb could stroke at his jaw.

“What am I supposed to do, Dean?”

“Live, Sammy.” Dean’s voice dipped to a husky whisper. “Your life is yours now. Go see the Grand Canyon, ‘cause we never did make it. Go get yourself a girl, make babies, watch them grow up.”

Sam nearly choked on a sob and strong, corded arms reached around him and a warm cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“You’ve got time now, Sammy. Make it count.”

Sam shook his head, tears streaming freely. “I can’t, Dean. I can’t. I need—I need _you_.”

Soft, dry lips brushed across Sam’s neck, beneath his ear, and made him tremble.

“I’m gonna be watchin’ you, kiddo. Always. So you keep your dumb ass safe and alive and out of trouble. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded jerkily, trying to press back into the heat he could already feel fading at his back. “Yeah, I will. Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you, Dean.”

For a terrifying moment, Sam thought Cas had lost the connection or that he had only been dreaming the whole thing, but hands closed, strong and sure, at his shoulders and a warm breath ghosted across his cheek.

“Love you, too, Sammy.” There was another pause and the softest press of lips to the back of his skull. “Gotta go, kiddo. I’ll see you in twenty or thirty years, huh?”

Sam didn’t have the chance to answer. The hands at his back were no longer Dean’s, broad and hard in all the right ways, and ridged with distinctive scars, and expressive in a way that had let his older brother communicate a lifetime of love to him without ever speaking a word.

He clasped his own hand over his mouth for a moment, sucked in a wet, wavering breath to suppress a sob.

“Th-thank you, Cas.”

“You are welcome, Sam.”

Cas stepped back, giving Sam space. He was trembling. 

In a little while, after he and Cas had drank a cup of coffee in the silence of the small kitchen while the sun pushed its insistent way into all the corners and shooed out the shadows of the night, he would go upstairs and take a shower; turn the water on as hot as he could stand and let it wash away the grime and the smoke and the soot and the last ghosted remnants of the man who had been Dean Winchester. He would shatter quietly and completely into a million tiny shapeless pieces on the shower floor with his knees drawn up into his chest and his tears mixed in with the hot water, undone and directionless without the glue of purpose that his brother’s love had so long provided; and then he would gather himself back up and start to reshape all the leftover bits into something he could live with…for the next, say, twenty or thirty years.


	2. Chapter 2

_Twenty or thirty, Sammy. I said, twenty or thirty._

_Well, you know how I’ve always been with authority figures, Dean._

_But fucking forty-five! And thirteen grandkids! Jesus, Sam…_

_You said make it count._

_Blow me._

_Later._

_Bitch._

_Jerk…_


End file.
